


The Great Escape: Rosencaster Prison: Interior Pathway A2

by moody_trans_detective



Series: Rogueass Galaxy [32]
Category: Rogue Galaxy
Genre: Gen, at least I got a sandwich out of this, boudoir photos, lockpicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moody_trans_detective/pseuds/moody_trans_detective
Summary: Zegram hopes to find something valuable in Rosencaster's office.
Series: Rogueass Galaxy [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956043
Kudos: 1





	The Great Escape: Rosencaster Prison: Interior Pathway A2

Zegram ducked into Rosencaster’s office as he heard footsteps at a run approach. Soldiers, and Norma, so nobody he wanted to see. He wondered if the kid’d already made it out, but almost immediately after Norma’s goons dashed inside, Jaster and the others came crashing out.

“I’m proudda yew,” panted Simon. “Botha yew. I really thought back there yewwer goin’ t’kill Rosencaster.”

“We should have,” said Lilika.

“Come on,” said Jaster.

“But there’s a way of things.” Simon rushed to keep up with the other two, who were fast retreating down the interior pathway toward the prison exit. “An’ if ye had…”

Zegram waited. He didn’t want to get stuck between the kid and Norma—better if none of them even knew he was here. He had a couple swigs of grog, flipped the hair out of his eyepatch, and kept an ear out.

One shot echoed, loudly, out of the lab and down the corridor. Norma strode out and away, soldiers flanking her. Zegram waited a full minute after they’d disappeared from view, then ducked into Rosencaster’s lab.

Rosencaster sprawled on the dirty metal floor, very dead. So the kid hadn’t killed him, but he’d weakened Rosencaster enough for Norma to finish him off. Figured. Someone was gunning for this asshole since he’d started dabbling in whatever this shit was in the tanks around him. Zegram had a long swig from his good grog as he took in the mad science going on around him.

Protobeasts, it looked like. Formerly people, killed and infused with Rune to bring them back. Zegram shook his head. No wonder these beasts weren’t particularly sexually exciting. He’d always thought them to be too humanoid, and to discover why wasn’t that much of a surprise.

“Poor bastard,” he said, stepping around Rosencaster. The man had a photograph clutched in his dead hand; Zegram pulled it out and had a look.

He recognized Claudia, Rosencaster’s wife. She was dead, too, and Rosencaster the same kind of fool Zegram was. He’d thought he could bring her back. He’d thought Norma’s assurances meant something. Zegram let the photograph of the comely purple-haired woman in Rosencaster’s arms fall back to the floor, the corner sticking in the prison warden’s pooled blood.

There was no bringing Claudia back. That was beyond the limits of technology, maybe of the universe. Just like there was no bringing Jane back.

“Heh,” Zegram said to himself, because otherwise the pain would become too much and he didn’t want to break down in Rosencaster’s lab with all the protobeasts in their tubes staring at him. He pulled out his flask of cheap Pirate’s Grog and drank and drank.

He despised Alekt Rosencaster. The man had had what Zegram never had: hope.

“Yeah, well, look where that got ya.” Zegram was almost out of grog and he tucked the flask away again. “I may want the same thing you did, but I got _sense_.” And Zegram was loyal to one person and one person alone: Zegram. He wasn’t going to fuck up the way Rosencaster had. He’d take whatever he could get from Norma, but he wasn’t about to get his ass killed for it.

He also had the sense to know if there was something worth lifting from this fucked up laboratory, now was the time to make off with it. Zegram stepped over Rosencaster’s legs and moved to examine the tubes full of protobeasts, shuffle through paperwork, scroll through pads of data. He didn’t bother looking at anything too closely, not when he was here to grab whatever looked interesting and get the hell out immediately. Nothing of interest in here, but these versions of protobeasts had very prominent genitalia, Zegram noted. Long dicks, heavy-hanging balls. Extremely prominent labia.

Maybe Rosencaster was into that sort of thing. Zegram shuddered and wandered back to Rosencaster’s office, where he was greeted with another photo of Alekt and Claudia. The same photo.

“Huh? You only have the one, asshole?”

He shuffled through the shit the warden had kept here, finding nothing particularly interesting. Where was all the damned research? Zegram knew he could get something for it in unreputable places, if it existed. Was it all simply in the employees heads? No wonder the experiments failed.

He located a locked drawer.

“That’s the shit,” he said, pulling out his lockpicking kit. He unrolled it on Rosencaster’s desk and set to work. He pulled it open, eager for mounds of illegal data, papers and discs and drives. Zegram saw only one long book bound in purple velvet. He picked it up.

The fabric was soft. The inside was dedicated in a woman’s hand, to her darling Alekt, signed C.

“Huh?” Zegram turned to the first page and saw Claudia in skimpy lingerie, sitting spread-legged on a chair, the rung on the back of it covering where her legs split. “Huh.”

Zegram flipped through the book, all racy images of Claudia in various outfits and states of undress. He was curious more than anything, since women, even sexy ones, still failed to do it for him. The back third of the book had pictures of Claudia wearing nothing at all, and the very last pictures were of her masturbating. One sprawled back on a bed, hand between her legs, other hand pressing violet panties to her tits. One with the largest dildo Zegram had ever seen a woman wield. One of her crouched and mid-squirt.

Zegram flipped the book closed and tossed it back in the drawer. Some very lucky guard would stumble across it later and get a few good wanks out of it, sell it to a buddy for a few zehn when he was through with it. It made him think of Jane. He was sure she’d had more picture collections than just assorted beasts. But she was the kind who knew how to make money off of ‘em. She could make a damned good living off her work.

The one picture he knew she’d never sold was the stinger assassin, the one he’d exploded over their first night together. She’d kept that in her bags up until the day she’d died. Zegram felt his throat tighten. He needed to get the hell out of here.

But there was one more lock to pick, one more drawer. He pushed Jane from his mind and set to work. Here, finally, should be something good, but when he opened the last drawer he found what looked to be Rosencaster’s lunch. It was from a high-end deli, but it was still a sandwich. Zegram was unimpressed. He swiped it and ate it on the way out.


End file.
